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It was a quiet night on the Satellite of Love...
There was nothing quite like summer. A time of carnivals, lazy days fishing, and naturally, farming. Each day seemed to reach on forever in a haze of heat, broken occasionally by a rogue thunderstorm, but always returning to hot, clear and humid within a matter of hours. After what seemed like an eternity of winter, it was always welcomed. Not that Mike Nelson minded the winter. He was a good Wisconsinite, and the 5 or 6 months of snow didn't really bother him. But he loved summer in all it's glory. The feel of sunlight on his face, the sound of a breeze whispering through the corn...
...And something was tickling his foot. Mike woke up from his reminiscent dreaming to see two robots at the foot of his bed. Maybe a year or so ago that would have surprised him, but he's long since stopped trying to convince himself that this is all one long nightmare. Tom Servo hovers to one side, and Crow T. Robot stands at the other, carefully painting Mike's toenails bright red. He wasn't doing a bad job at it, either, but Mike wasn't exactly thrilled. "Crow, what are you doing?"
The gold 'bot looked up, sharply. "Oh, we're just, uhhh, playing around. Don't worry about it. Go back to sleep."
"Why are you painting my toenails?" Mike asked, as a little voice in the back of his mind ranted, "Why me, God? Why?!"
"We just wanted to try out this new color!" Tom replied, just a bit too quickly. Apparently they had worked out a cover story should they be caught in the act.
"Why don't you two go away and let me sleep, alright?" Mike said, flatly. It was definitely more of a command than a polite request.
The two robots shuffled out in defeat... again, just a little too quickly. Still, they were gone and Mike would have time to clean off the polish later. He pulled his feet under his blanket in an attempt to forestall any other attacks, and drifted back off.
...Now it was winter. A much more common season in the Midwest, that was for sure. Moonlight glittered over the snow, like millions of diamonds had been ground up and thrown over the frozen ground. There was no corn, no soybeans... just a wide empty field of snow. There were thousands of stars out, and it was bright enough out to read by. Not too far away a farmhouse stood with all of the windows glowing in cheery yellow light. Mike didn't really feel the cold, but then, it was a dream. You didn't get frostbitten in dreams. He smiled, walking back to the house and hearing the snow crunch under his boots...
...as a rather brilliant flash of pain startled him awake again. This time Crow was leaning over him holding a pair of tweezers... tweezers that in turn held a fairly nice sized clump of painfully familiar sandy hair. They looked at each other for a moment before letting out a scream. Mike jumped back against the wall, and Crow fell back against Servo, who hit the opposite wall.
"What are you doing?!" Mike yelled, trying desperately to catch his breath. This was not a nice way to wake up.
"Um, nothing." Tom hovered back up off of the ground. "We're just trying out some DNA stuff..."
Mike rubbed his eyebrow, noting that there was a pretty good piece missing from it. "I asked you to leave me alone. Now I'm telling you... GET OUT!!!"
The two robots shuffled out again, muttering to each other. Mike thought about following them, but he didn't want to get up. He just wanted to go back to sleep and dream about being somewhere else. The little voice chimed in again, "They'll be baaaaack!" and he firmly shut it out. Maybe this time they would listen. Had he been more awake he might have asked himself why they were doing this to him, but instead he buried his head under his pillow and went back to sleep.
...Now he was sitting down by the pond. It wasn't a big pond, really, but it was big enough to swim in, and it had some fish. His dad kept it stocked so that he and the boys could fish there, but Mike knew it was because his mom drove his dad crazy sometimes. He leaned against a tree, a book in one hand and a fishing pole in the other. Leaves were falling down, and it seemed like the whole world was alive with color. Winter wouldn't be that far off though, and fall was a painfully short season that far north. But it was still pretty warm out, and maybe he'd finally have a chance to catch the big salmon he knew was in there, even though all they ever stocked was trout and minnows. Mike cast the line out, waiting for the big one to strike...
...And woke up again when he heard something that sounded like someone was running a comb over sandpaper. His legs were cold. He looked down only to see Crow hard at work shaving his legs. For a moment it didn't quite register, but when it did he jumped out of bed, grabbed the two robots and glared at them with a look that could scare a professional wrestler. Slowly and quietly he said, "This is the third time I've been woken up. Now, normally I wouldn't be so angry, but I'm very very tired, and I'm not in the mood to put up with this. So why don't you explain to me WHAT THE HELL YOU'RE DOING?!"
Crow and Tom both cowered down. Mike normally didn't lose his temper, but when he did it was always something to be concerned about. "W-well, you know how we're going to be coming up on the Mir for the first time ever?" Crow asked, fidgeting.
"No..."
"Well, we're actually going to be in a position to rendezvous with the Mir in a few hours," Tom said, a little more calm than Crow. "And, well..."
Mike had a bad feeling about this. "Well?"
Both robots cowered a bit more, as Crow answered, "We kinda sorta told them that there's a woman up here," he winced, but continued hastily, "Y'see, they have a copy of 'Surfboarding Killer Bikini Vampire Girls' and they said they'd copy it for us if we could show them a woman. And since you look kinda like a woman sometimes, we thought maybe we could turn you into one for tonight so we could get a cool movie for a change."
"You have got to be kidding," Mike groaned, letting them both go and burying his face in his hands.
"You're not mad?" Tom asked, hopefully.
"I could kill you both, but I'm not going to. Instead, you two are going to call the Mir and tell them that there isn't a woman on board, and that they'll just have to keep their copy of 'Surfboarding Killer Bikini Vampire Girls'." Mike grabbed hold of both of them again and pulled them down the corridor to the Bridge.
"But why?! It's only for a night!" Crow pleaded, "You've done your crossdressing thing before!"
"That was for a skit! That was not to seduce cosmonauts, astronauts, whatever!" Mike growled, letting them loose again. "Call over there, tell them the deal is off, or I'm going to go get my jumper cables."
"Alright, alright," Tom sighed. "You're so touchy sometimes."
"I think you're under too much stress," Crow chimed in, nodding empathetically. "You need a vacation."
"Or therapy," Tom muttered, to himself.
"What I need, gentlebots, is a good nights sleep!" Mike said, resolutely. Meanwhile the little voice was saying, "They're about to lie to you and go through with it anyway." This time he listened to it halfheartedly, but didn't take it too seriously.
Crow tapped something in on a keyboard that was stashed under the console and the Hexfield viewscreen opened to reveal a couple of drunk Russians and a drunk American singing the theme to Gilligan's Island. "Um, guys?" Crow asked, a little quietly. They paid no attention. "Well, guess they're busy. We'll have to call up later." The gold 'bot tried to make a break for it.
"Not so fast," Mike said, grabbing him by the basket and dragging him back. He looked at the screen and bellowed, "HEY!"
The drunken astros looked up and whistled, "Hey baby!"
Normally this probably would have sent Mike running in terror. But he was tired, his head ached, and his gentle nature was giving way to frustrated anger. "I'm not your baby. And we have no women onboard this satellite. Do me a real big favor and forget you ever talked to the robots here. In fact, forget we're here period!"
"Awwww, you party pooper!" The American whined, as the other two shook their heads.
"Can't we even let them visit?" Tom asked. "They look like they can throw one hell of a party!"
"No. Absolutely, positively not," Mike answered. "Not now, not ever."
"Pretty please? We'll clean up after they leave! And we know where those Oreos are!"
Mike started to shake his head, then looked up. "Oreos?"
"Yea!" Crow said, seeing Mike's resolve starting to crumble... he was a junk-food fiend.
"I don't know...." Mike looked between the two robots, trying to figure out if it was worth it. He could always go and find somewhere quiet to sleep, but if they knew where there were Oreos it might be worth the chance. "Bad ideeeeea!" The little voice put in.
"Double stuffed Oreos," Tom said, knowing this would probably be what won their argument.
He was right. The argument against went down like the Titanic, with a lone little voice crying "Noooooo!" Mike finally nodded. "Alright, but I want to see the Oreos before those goons step one foot on this satellite."
Crow ran off and true to their word, came back with a whole, unopened bag of Double-Stuf Oreos. "See? Told ya!"
Mike took the bag, forcing himself not to drool. There was precious little junkfood on board, and any that was there was to be treasured. He thought for sure that he had killed the last bag onboard months ago. "Alright... it's a deal. But I want them off the satellite by morning, and everything cleaned up. And if they cause any trouble, call me." He rummaged around under the console and set a walkie talkie on the countertop.
"You the man, Mikey," Crow cheered, and was joined by Servo and the crew of the Mir.
Mike just shook his head. All he wanted was to find somewhere quiet, devour a few cookies, and go back to sleep. The little voice that didn't quite die on the Titanic said, "This is a very bad ideeeea..." but he didn't care. Taking the other walkie talkie, he retreated to his room, grabbed his pillow and blanket, and went to find somewhere more peaceful than this.
...It was spring. He was riding on a tractor with his dad, and they both sat in silence. They never talked that much anyway... both were on the quiet side by nature. Well, at least when they were together. Now it was time to get the fields ready to plant. Mike remembered this well. A long time ago he hated working all summer, so he told his dad that he didn't want to be a farmer. He had the speech all planned out; about how he wanted to see bigger things than rural Wisconsin, how he wanted to make something more out of himself, and how he would always love it there but he had to leave. He was kind of hurt when his dad just said, "OK." Afterall, that's not how it happens in the movies. He was expecting a battle of wills... or at least an argument. And that speech. He had been practicing that for hours in front of his mirror, trying to get the perfect expression; something between agony and maturity. But the only answer he got was, "OK." It was said in that neutral, passive voice. A voice that only rose once that he could remember, when he had driven into a tree with their pickup...
...The voice that woke him up now was anything but passive and neutral. It was a voice screaming with laughter over the speaker of the Walkie Talkie sitting way too close to his ear. Mike shook his head, drowsily, too tired to be startled, "What is it Tom?" he asked, then released the send button.
"You're got to see this!! These guys are great! They made us a copy of the movie anyway because you're such a spoilsport, and they brought all kinds of neat stuff over!" Servo's voice yelled over some music blaring in the background.
"Not now," Mike replied, rubbing his eyes with one hand and holding the radio with the other.
"What?! I can't hear you! It's too loud up here!"
"NOT NOW!" Mike hollered, immediately regretting it as his voice echoed through the half-empty cargo bay.
"OK! No need to shout! Sheesh! Over and out."
"Over and out," the tired human muttered. He thought he'd find some serenity down here, tucked between two piles of crates. It wasn't likely. Forrester had devoted all of his energies to driving Mike mad, but he had a feeling the 'bots would do him in long before the scientist ever got the chance. He put the radio just a little bit further away and dozed off again, wondering to himself just how the other guy survived for as long as he did.
He didn't even get a chance to start where he left off dreaming before the 'bots were calling again. This time it was about the movie. Then, ten minutes later, they were asking him to bring up some popcorn. After the 7th call, Mike gave up on trying to get any sleep that night. He sat leaning against a crate, just waiting for them to call again. It was never anything important; always something trivial. Well, maybe it wasn't trivial to them, but they weren't the ones sitting in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt on the cold floor with an aching head, part of an eyebrow missing, and half of a leg shaved. No, they were partying with a bunch of astronauts while he sat there, miserably tired, staring at the 4 red toenails on his right foot.
The night went on like that. Once or twice he entertained thoughts of joining them, but realized that he probably had less in common with those people than Barney had with Mr. Spock. When morning came around, Mike picked his things up and headed for the bridge, waiting to find the party still in full swing. He was surprised when he walked onto the bridge to find silence. Both 'bots were offline, in their sleep mode. The astronauts were no where to be seen. The place looked like a tornado went through there, but at least it wasn't totally destroyed. "Crow? Tom?"
Neither robot made any move to respond, so Mike just picked them up and carried them to their rooms, taking a moment to tuck each one in, before heading to his own room. He wasn't even really mad at them anymore; it was hard to stay mad at them, no matter how insufferable they got. At least they were asleep. Maybe now he could finally get some rest, and go back to dreaming about home.... or even about Earth in general. It didn't matter, as long as it was quiet.
Many hours later two voices were heard. One said, "Think we should tell him they borrowed his Ozzy collection?"
"Naw... let's just finish the toenails and go," the other replied, in a whisper.
"Tell me again why we're going to paint the rest of them...?"
"Well, there's an article for a foot fetish magazine contest. If we win, we get a lifetime subscription."
"Why a foot fetish mag? Why not Playboy or something?"
"Hey, it's all we can get. Now where did I put that brush?"
Mike sort of heard it, but he didn't care. Leaves fell to the water and floated away, taking a journey to the vast shores beyond. A vee of geese flew past, and then silence again. He was this close to catching that fish, despite the little voice telling him he wasn't. All he had to do was be patient, and wait...
And that's the news from the SOL, where the movies are always bad, the riffs are always good, and the occupants aren't quite sane...